


And time's forever frozen still

by goindownshipping



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Romantic Fluff, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goindownshipping/pseuds/goindownshipping
Summary: Bucky goes home with Steve after the fight in Siberia. Even though Bucky doesn't quite trust himself, something tells him to trust Steve. They learn a lot together and Bucky discovers parts of his past he never knew existed.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	And time's forever frozen still

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "‘ focus on my voice. ’ - will you please do Stucky where Steve and Bucky don't go to Wakanda after Civil War?"
> 
> Stucky fluff and rediscovering their love post Civil War. Let’s just pretend Bucky didn’t lose his metal arm in the fight in Siberia and neither of them are too injured :)

Leaving Tony on the cold, hard ground in Siberia was one of the most difficult things Steve Rogers had faced in recent years, but it was certainly not the worst he’d faced. The worst was when he thought Bucky had been killed in Azzano; then it was watching Bucky fall from the train and not being able to save him; then it was coming face to face with Bucky decades later only to find out he had no idea who Steve Rogers was. So yes, fighting Tony and leaving him in Siberia wasn’t his finest moment, but he was sure as hell not about to let Bucky slip through his fingers again.

Both men had been quiet upon boarding the quinjet, still shaken from the fight at the airport and then in Siberia. Bucky sat still, trying to differentiate among a plethora of memories and images flashing behind his eyes. Being back in that facility sent him deep within his own mind, flashes of atrocities reminding him of who he was. What he was. 

“Where are you taking me?” Bucky asked quietly. His head was vibrating, he needed something to focus on besides the scene they left behind.

Steve hesitated. “Fury helped me set up a safe house a few years back. I haven’t needed it until now, but it’ll be a good place for us to settle down for a bit.”

“Steve,” Bucky started.

“No, don’t,” Steve said firmly.

Bucky stopped, knowing how stubborn Steve could be. That realization surprised Bucky a bit. Over the past couple of years, he’d come to trust himself little by little, but his memories were still foreign. Most of them felt like dreams that he could just barely remember the premise of. At that moment, he knew not to argue with Steve. He didn’t know exactly why, but somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he knew the argument wouldn’t be worth it.

The realization was somewhat comforting, but he knew how easily his mind could betray him, how quickly the switch could flip on him. He let out a long sigh, knowing nothing productive would come from a fight on the jet. Bucky settled back, closing his eyes and wishing for sleep for the long flight to wherever Steve’s safe house was. 

With the autopilot engaged, Steve looked over his shoulder to where Bucky was dozing behind him. He covered his mouth when a sob threatened to escape from his chest, wracking his entire body where he sat. Just seeing Bucky safe in front of him was enough to send him into a full spiral, thinking back to the number of times Bucky had protected him when they were kids. Bucky may not remember everything, hell he might not remember anything, but Steve did. Steve couldn’t, wouldn’t, forget anything.

He wouldn’t let Bucky down this time. He couldn’t fail him again. Steve finally had a chance to take care of the person that meant more to him than anyone in the world and he wouldn’t squander it. He tried not to think about all the memories that had surely been burned out of Bucky’s brain by this point. He knew his resolve would crumble the second he let himself relive those moments.

He shook his head, hoping to physically dislodge the images swirling in his head, and instead focused on how to stay under the radar when the whole world was supposedly on the lookout for Captain America and his no-longer-dead best friend. He thought about Tony and the look in his eye when Steve dropped his shield. He knew he had to fix it, he had to fix everything. 

But right now, right now he had to take care of Bucky. That was it. That was his mission, and come hell or high water, he would do right by him.

Bucky managed to sleep for most of the long flight, only waking when the quinjet hit a couple unexpected bumps.

“We almost there, Stevie?” he asked sleepily.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat at the nickname and softness in Bucky’s tone.

“We still have a long way to go. You can go back to sleep Buck,” Steve managed to choke out.

When Steve glanced back, Bucky was already fast asleep again, a small smile on his face. Steve hadn’t heard that nickname in decades, and he certainly didn’t expect to hear it from Bucky ever again. Ignoring the inkling of hope in his gut, Steve refocused on their flight path, noting the several hours until their final approach. At that, he decided to get some sleep himself before landing at the house. 

A while later, Steve awoke to a soft beeping from the controls, alerting him that they were approaching their landing. Quickly wiping the sleep from his eyes, Steve switched off autopilot to guide the jet down toward the massive field adjacent to the house. By the time the jet came to rest, and the engines had come to a stop, Bucky was awake and trying to get a glimpse of their surroundings.

“Where are we?”

“Home, for the time being. But specifically, we’re somewhere in Kansas. Come on, let’s get inside.”

Steve and Bucky exited the jet and made their way to a modest looking farmhouse. Steve entered a lengthy pin on the keypad at the front door before gesturing for Bucky to step inside. Bucky made his way inside, glancing around as he made his way down the front hall. For a house that had supposedly never been used, it was awfully homey. Steve seemed to notice the appraisal.

“I wanted it to feel like home if I ever came here. Besides, where else was I going to keep my things?” Steve shrugged.

Most of Steve’s personal belongings were long gone after he put the Valkyrie in the ice, but the few boxes that SHIELD managed to hang on to now lived here. He had a few family photos hanging, several of which contained Bucky. Neither man acknowledged it, but Steve noticed Bucky’s gaze lingering on a few select photos.

“Ma always wanted you in the family photos,” Steve admitted.

Bucky smiled but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Steve, are you sure this is a good idea? I’m putting you in more danger just being here.”

“Bucky,” Steve said slowly, stepping toward him. “Where else are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted. “The Wakandan prince said something about his sister knowing what to do, maybe it would be best if I went out there. They can get my mind back.”

Steve shook his head violently. “No, I can’t let you do that Bucky.”

“Steve this is a terrible idea, I’m just gonna hurt you if we stay here.”

“Bucky, you’re not going to hurt me. I’m not letting you go out in the world and try to deal with this on your own again, I can’t do that.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Steve took one final step toward Bucky, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t spook him. “I know you don’t believe me yet, but we’re gonna be okay. Alright? You always took care of me when we were kids and now it’s my turn. You hear me?”

“But Steve, I don’t, I could-”

“No Buck, don’t go there. I’m not letting you go through this on your own,” Steve said firmly.

Bucky paused, looking up at Steve’s face directly in front of him. Steve’s face was hard, determined. But his eyes were wide with fear and the slightest bit of hurt. Taking in Steve’s expression, Bucky took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Listening to you helps. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not like I just remember things all of a sudden, but hearing you talk is safe, it blocks out the bad stuff. It was what gave me a hint that I knew you on the bridge, and then again on the helicarrier. I don’t know how, but I just knew. Even when I can’t trust my own mind, something tells me to trust you.”

“We can handle that. You just tell me when it’s getting bad and **_focus on my voice_**. Think you can do that?”

“I can try.”

“Good. Then we’re good.”

Steve gave Bucky’s shoulder one final squeeze before taking a step back.

“It’s late Buck, let me show you where the guest room is and get you settled.”

Bucky nodded and trailed after Steve like a puppy. Once again, Bucky was surprised by the sheer amount of belongings Steve had in the house. Steve got him situated with some clothes, toiletries, and towels and showed him his room with an attached bathroom. Once Steve had shown Bucky to his room, he paused in the doorway.

“My room is just down the hall,” Steve gestured to a doorway to his left. “You can always come get me if you need anything, Buck,” Steve said softly.

Steve looked conflicted, as if he was considering saying something else. His eyes flitted around, settling anywhere but Bucky’s face.

“Thank you, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes snapped up to Bucky’s. “You don’t have to thank me. This is what you do for someone you-”

Steve and Bucky just blinked at each other. 

“This is what you do for someone important to you,” Steve finished quietly.

Bucky just nodded, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight Bucky.”

If Bucky didn’t close the door until after he saw Steve disappear into his own room, no one had to know. When Steve pulled his own door shut, he smiled softly at the click he heard from down the hall.

What could have been minutes or hours later, Bucky awoke with a start, his throat raw, and his entire body tremoring. It took him a moment to register the hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake. Instinctively he shoved the attacker in chest, his metal arm causing enough force to create plenty of distance between them.

“Buck, Bucky it’s me, it’s Steve,” he heard through the darkness.

He took a shuddering breath, quickly remembering his surroundings and current circumstances. Steve. Steve is good, Steve helps.

“Steve,” he wheezed.

He sat up in bed, his back pressed against the headboard as he watched Steve carefully approach from the other side of the room, where his shove had thrown him.

“Can I sit next to you?” Steve asked carefully.

With his eyes now pressed shut, Bucky just nodded, trying to focus on Steve’s voice and the memories he knew were real. He thought about Steve taking him to Siberia, their trip here in the quinjet, Steve getting him settled. It was all real. He held on to those little bits of certainty with everything he had.

He felt the bed dip and assumed Steve had sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn’t dare open his eyes yet.

“I’m sorry I scared you Buck, I heard you yelling from down the hall and it scared the shit outta me,” Steve said soothingly. “I just wanted to come and make sure you’re alright, I’m sorry I scared you,” he repeated. 

“It’s okay,” Bucky said tightly. “Just keep talking, please. Anything.”

“Alright, Buck, it’s alright.” Steve placed a tentative hand on Bucky’s knee through the blankets and squeezed, hoping the minimal physical contact wouldn’t be too much for Bucky.

“When we were kids, I stayed the night at your house a lot, especially if my Ma was working the night shift. Sometimes, your Ma would let us pull all the couch cushions down onto the floor and we’d make our own little fort with blankets and chairs and stuff.” Steve smiled at the memory, remembering their muffled laughter and whispered conversations into the wee hours of the morning.

“This one time in high school though, it’d been years since we’d done that, and in the middle of the night, we decided to set up camp on the floor. I guess we didn’t realize how uncomfortable couch cushions were when they were on the floor when we were in grade school, because, God, I don’t think either of us got a wink of sleep that night. At some point, we just gave up and put the cushions back on the couch and just fell straight to sleep. Your Ma came out in the morning and found us knocked out on the sofa, blankets and chairs all over the room.”

Steve looked up to find Bucky watching him with a familiar smile. 

“I think I remember that,” Bucky said slowly.

“It’s okay if you don’t, Buck” Steve reminded.

Bucky shook his head and furrowed his brow, clearly focusing on something in the recesses of his mind.

“I remember that night. After we went to sleep on the couch, you shoved me on the floor at some point. I remember waking up and you were sprawled across the whole damn sofa. I must have shoved you right back so I could lay back down.”

The faraway look in Bucky’s eyes had lifted, leaving him with clear, bright, blue eyes and a determined look on his face. His lips twitched a bit, fighting a smile at the memory.

“I told you your voice helps.”

Steve smiled, grateful that he’d been able to help Bucky through whatever nightmare he faced. He thought back to that night, his face breaking into a grin. He’d never forget Mrs. Barnes’ face when she emerged that morning to find Steve and Bucky wrapped around each other on the couch. Her smile said everything when Steve and Bucky eventually roused from their slumber. They didn’t know it yet, but she did.

“I’m glad I can help, Buck. You wanna try to get some more sleep?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Steve hesitated.

“You alright Steve?”

“Is it okay that I came in here when I heard you?” Steve whispered.

Bucky paused. Instinctively, he wanted to say no, to hide his pain from Steve, the one person who actually believed there was still good in him. But he also knew that he couldn’t do this by himself. If Steve was insisting on helping him through this, he had to let him.

“Yeah, Steve, it’s just fine. Just maybe don’t shake me next time? I don’t want to put you through a wall,” Bucky chuckled.

“Alright, good,” Steve sighed. “I don’t think I could’ve left you in here when I woke up.”

There was an awkward pause then, neither man quite knowing what to say. Steve wanted to say so much, reveal the cracked remnants of his heart and memories of him and Bucky. But he couldn’t do that, it wasn’t fair to Bucky to lay everything out there. So he sat and took a few deep breaths before slowly rising to his feet.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Steve. I’ll see you in the morning,” Bucky said gratefully.

Steve nodded and shut the door softly before he padded down the hallway, willing the tears not to fall yet. He shut his bedroom door behind him and immediately sank to the floor, his back against the door. With his head in his hands, he let the tears fall silently, hoping his shuddering breath couldn’t be heard down the hall. The fear he’d heard in Bucky’s cries and seen in his eyes was burned into his eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of how bad Bucky’s episodes must have been just a few years prior. 

When he finally looked toward his nightstand, the alarm clock alerted him that it was still the middle of the night, no time to be awake. Dragging himself back to his bed, Steve eventually fell asleep to images of the past flashing in his mind. 

Bucky woke up with a jump the next morning, startled by the unfamiliar surroundings and the softness of the bed. He took in the room and memories flooded back to him. He was at Steve’s safehouse, where Steve insisted they go after escaping Siberia. He glanced at the bedroom door, surprised to see it cracked instead of firmly shut, which he distinctly remembered doing the night before.

Suddenly, he remembered the nightmare, which must have had him screaming if Steve’s reaction was anything to go by. He took stock of everything, pleased to feel like his head wasn’t splitting down the middle, like he didn’t have another consciousness fighting to come to the surface. He sat in bed for a moment, expecting to hear Steve moving about the house somewhere, but all was quiet. Bucky wasn’t sure whether it was comforting or disheartening to think that Steve had left him home alone on the first morning.

Shaking those thoughts away, Bucky slid out of bed, the need for coffee overtaking his concern for the moment. Following the hallway to the open living room and kitchen, Bucky was again confronted with all things Steve. Photos, candles, pillows, it all screamed Steve Rogers. Bucky wasn’t sure how exactly he knew that, but he did. He could feel it.

He meandered into the kitchen, his nose leading him toward the strong coffee he could smell from his room. On the counter next to the coffee pot he found a large mug and a note from Steve.

> _Went into town for some groceries, I should be back in the early afternoon. There’s some food in the freezer, but not much. If you need any clothes or anything, there’s extras in my closet. Home phone is on the side table next to the couch, my cell is on speed dial if you need me._

> _-Steve_

With a large cup of coffee in hand, Bucky headed back to the living room where a large plush sofa was calling his name. He was surprised to find that it was already almost noon, so Steve would likely be back soon. Once settled, he looked around. The cozy room was comforting, nothing like the holding facilities he was used to or the crappy apartments he’d been crashing in for the last few years. This was different. His instincts had him checking for sightlines and mapping out exit strategies, but he tried to push those away and focus on the photos surrounding him. 

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to see himself in so many of the photos given how close he and Steve had been before the fall. Even so, he’d never come face to face with so many reminders of a life he couldn’t remember living. He wondered how many of his own photos and memories would have Steve in them if he ever got his hands on them. 

Wrapping a blanket around himself, he reached for the television remote, hoping something could distract him from the sudden sadness washing over him. After scrolling through the entire guide several times, Bucky gave up, settling on drinking his coffee in silence. Once he reached the bottom of his mug, he figured it was time for a shower. He quickly realized just how much grime had settled into his skin since Siberia and he was itching for water just hot enough to burn a bit.

Upon entering his room, he realized Steve had given him towels and toiletries, but only one set of clothes. He hesitated, nervous to snoop through Steve’s space even though his note made it clear he could look for anything he needed. Glancing down at his now dirt and sweat covered clothes, he knew he didn’t have much of a choice.

Reluctantly, Bucky made his way toward Steve’s room. Upon entering, he was overcome with a sense of comfort. The whole room smelled like coming home after a long day. Bucky always knew that smells could trigger memories that he didn’t know he had, but this was different. This wasn’t a specific memory; it was this innate gut feeling that this was home. That Steve was home.

Bucky took a deep breath, soaking in the comfort, feeling the safety wrap around him. Call him crazy, but he finally found something that felt right, that felt like it belonged to the version of himself that he was still clawing his way back toward. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t connect all the dots or recall all the specific memories. All that mattered was that he finally had something to latch on to. All that mattered was that Steve trusted him enough to bring him here. All that mattered was Steve.

He shook that last thought out of his head, unsure of where exactly it came from and headed for the closet on the far side of the bedroom. Sliding the door open, he was faced with what seemed to be Steve’s entire civilian wardrobe. The shelves and hangers were full of everything from soft sweaters and henleys to fitted button-downs and khakis. The very top shelf was what caught Bucky’s attention though.

The top shelf had several stacks of thick, cable knit sweaters that looked cozy enough for Bucky to bundle up in for the next several weeks. They looked homey and warm - perfect. He reached up, his heart set on a deep blue piece, and his fingers scrabbled to secure the fabric. When he finally grabbed it and yanked it down, the angle brought down several sweaters along with the blue one he was aiming for.

Bucky shook his head at his clumsiness, knowing that was something that would never leave him. He quickly grabbed the sweaters to refold them and hoist them back up on the shelf. He was on the second to last one, a light sky-blue colored sweater when he felt something stiff inside the fabric. He reached into the sleeve to move whatever had gotten stuck when it fell and came out with a small stack of old photos, clearly printed before Steve went into the ice.

Bucky looked down and felt all the air rush out of him. He immediately fell to his knees, his entire being knocked off balance by what he saw in the photos. His eyes filled with tears against his will, but through the blur, he could still clearly make out the images.

The first one in the stack was a photo of him and Steve, clearly taken without them knowing. A young Steve, probably just a matter of months before the serum, was perched on Bucky’s knee with one of Bucky’s arms firmly around his waist. Steve’s head was resting against Bucky’s shoulder, love drunk smiles pasted across both of their faces. Steve was looking up at Bucky, Bucky glancing down at Steve and it was impossible to miss the love evident in their eyes. 

Bucky collapsed down from his knees, hitting the floor with a thud, but paid no mind to the discomfort as he pulled up the next picture in the stack. The next photo was in a similar vein as the first one but must have been taken during their time as part of the Howling Commandos. How that was possible, Bucky didn’t know. All he knew was that this photo showed Steve in his Captain American uniform, covered in dirt, with his arms wrapped tightly around Bucky in what must have been a bone crushing hug. Bucky’s face was tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck while Steve pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

Bucky spread out the dozen or so photos on the floor in front of him, each of them indicating just how in love he and Steve must have been back then. In every single photo, they were touching in some way; an arm around the other person, hands held between them, a kiss on the cheek. Even in photos that included their friends or family, it was evident that Steve and Bucky were drawn to each other like magnets, always revolving around each other and finding their way into contact. It appeared that was still true to this day, given that the universe had somehow kept them both alive despite believing the other must be long dead or simply not knowing the other existed, in Bucky’s case.

He sat on the floor of Steve’s closet just staring at the photos, willing himself to remember just one of these instances. Hating himself for forgetting something so vastly important in his life and for ripping this way from Steve. God, Steve. How could Bucky ever forgive himself for depriving Steve of the love he so clearly deserved. _Deserves_.

Sitting there on the floor, for god knows how long, Bucky came to a startling realization. He may not be able to play back these memories like movies in his head, but he damn well knew that he could trust Steve, that he knew him when everything else was foreign and terrifying. That had to mean something right? His mind and heart hadn’t completely betrayed him if he knew that Steve felt like home, that he smelled familiar, that something within him just _knew_.

As Bucky crouched there, lost in thought and emotion, his well-trained instincts didn’t alert him to Steve’s arrival. He missed the loud thud of the car door, the minor tremor of the house when Steve shut the front door, and even the loud shuffling as Steve entered the kitchen.

“Buck?” Steve called loudly.

Bucky couldn’t bring himself to answer and he certainly couldn't bring himself to move from his place on the floor. He didn’t even have a moment to panic before Steve came through the door and was suddenly standing across the room, eyes fixed on the photos on the floor. 

“Shit, Buck,” Steve breathed out. He quickly crossed the room, dropping to his knees next to Bucky.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” Bucky sobbed.

“What? Bucky, no, this isn’t your fault at all. Dammit I-,” Steve took a shuddering breath in, his emotions coming to boil seeing those photos and knowing what Bucky had figured out.

“These past few years, I didn’t know, Steve.”

“I know you didn’t, and I never wanted you to find out like this.”

Bucky was still staring at the photos, unable to look up at the man next to him. He didn’t know what he’d do if he saw that same love in the photos directed at him now.

“Bucky, please, can we talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about? I ruined everything for you, I took it all away,” Bucky sobbed.

“No! God, Buck, please just come here.”

Bucky looked over to Steve, surprised to see the sheer vulnerability reflected in his grey-blue eyes. There wasn’t a hint of anger or resentment there, but maybe just a touch of fear.

Without thinking, Bucky scooted over just enough to collapse into Steve’s arms, his entire body breaking down into shuddering sobs.

“Why can’t I just remember?” he cried, desperate for relief from the constant reminders that his mind wasn’t his own.

Steve wrapped him up in a tight hug and pulled him closer, rearranging their limbs until they were in a more comfortable position on the floor.

“Shh, it’s okay Buck, it’s gonna be okay, I promise. That’s why we’re here, right? To do this together,” Steve murmured into his ear.

Bucky just continued to cry, years (decades) of emotion boiling over at that moment. Steve just held him close and continued whispering in his ear, reassuring him, letting him know it would all be okay.

“I’m not letting you do this alone, Buck, I promise,” Steve said firmly.

When Bucky finally felt like he had himself under control, he pulled back from Steve’s grip but didn’t dare move any further away. No matter what had been burned out of his head by HYDRA, his heart needed to be close to Steve. Everything from the last few years started to make more sense when he realized that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked quietly.

“And when exactly was I supposed to do that?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

“Fair enough,” Bucky sighed.

“Let’s go into the kitchen. We should eat before we do this.”

Bucky hesitated but nodded when he felt his stomach knotting in on itself. When Steve stood and reached a hand out for Bucky, he didn’t hesitate to take it. He didn’t think twice when neither of them let go until they were in the kitchen plating up the takeout Steve had brought back.

They ate their sandwiches and chips in silence, mostly due to how hungry they quickly realized they were. Bucky was grateful that Steve also had the appetite of a super soldier and brought close to a dozen sandwiches back for them. By the time they finished stuffing their faces and Steve had cleared away the scattered wrappers, Bucky knew they were faced with a difficult conversation.

“Want to get comfy in the living room for this?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, “Sure.”

Steve let Bucky lead the way to the living room and waited for him to pick a spot first, not wanting to crowd his space too much. Bucky’s face pulled into a confused frown when Steve settled in the chair across from him, rather than on the couch cushion at his side. Bucky glanced at the empty seat next to him and Steve took the hint, quickly moving close enough that their thighs pressed together.

Steve’s gaze was fixed on the carpet. He could feel Bucky’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. The guilt was already eating away at him, making his lunch sit uneasily in his stomach. After too much silence, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation at hand.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Bucky. It was so wrong for me to-”

“Steve, don’t. This isn’t your fault, there’s no reason for you to apologize,” Bucky interrupted.

Steve shook his head, still staring down at his feet.

“But Buck, I-”

“Dammit Steve, will you look at me please?”

Steve lifted his head and turned slightly to face Bucky. He was met with open, curious eyes with just a hint of anger.

“You have every right to be angry,” Steve whispered.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “But not at you. This isn’t your fault,” he repeated. His face softened a bit, the hard edge disappearing as he watched for Steve’s reaction.

“I just don’t know what to say.”

“Let’s start from the beginning. Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“How long?” Bucky asked simply.

“What do you-”

“How long, Steve?” he repeated.

Steve sighed, his gaze quickly drifting to the several photos littering the living room walls. “Since I was sixteen, you were seventeen. That’s when things changed.”

“What do you mean, changed?”

“That’s when we finally realized that best friends don’t normally cuddle on the couch and sleep in the same bed during sleepovers,” Steve laughed.

Bucky smiled at the distant, hazy memories of tangled limbs and sleep warm touches. It wasn’t in focus, but the memory was there. Somewhere deep in his heart and mind, he knew what Steve was saying; it almost felt like his own memories.

“So, all that time? When I left for the war, when you came and found me? All of that?”

“Yeah, Buck, the whole time.” Steve had a small smile on his face, the happy memories overtaking their current situation for just a split second. “I’m sorry,” Steve continued. “It’s not fair for me to dump this on you and I really didn’t mean for you to find out. At least not like this.”

“And what do you want?” Bucky questioned.

“What do you mean?” Steve was surprised by the question, his gaze immediately snapped back to Bucky’s inquisitive face.

“Exactly what I said, Steve. What do you want to happen now?”

“I want you to be okay. I was us to be okay,” Steve murmured so quietly, Bucky nearly missed it. “I know I can’t ask you to pretend to remember it all, I know that. But selfishly, god Buck, I would give anything, everything to have it all back.”

Steve’s eyes were fixed so intently on Bucky’s, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Hesitantly, Bucky reached for Steve’s thigh and squeezed tightly as he smiled up at him. 

“You’re right. I can’t pretend to remember everything. But I do know that these distant, fuzzy memories are mine. They all involve you. All of them Steve. I know I loved you. Love you, really. I can feel it. I might not have the same memories and things certainly aren’t normal, but I can feel it Stevie, I really can. I don’t want to lose that again,” Bucky admitted.

Steve stayed silent, partially to let Bucky continue but mostly in disbelief.

“Like I said, I can feel it. The pictures, the memories, those times in high school. It’s all still there. If you want to give this a shot, give me a shot, I think that’s really all I want.”

“If I want- Buck,” Steve trailed off. He carefully placed his hand over Bucky’s on his own thigh, barely squeezing for fear of startling him. He held Bucky’s gaze, unable to look away from those eyes that held so much and yet revealed nothing. When Bucky didn’t interject, Steve continued on.

“Bucky, not a single day has gone by that I haven’t wanted you. Not once, I swear,” Steve resounded. “If this is what you want, I’m right here.”

“You’re the only thing that feels familiar, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to want this just because you think it’s what I want, Buck. I’ll be here no matter what, I promise you that.”

Bucky shook his head vehemently, immediately cutting Steve off. “No,” Bucky said firmly. “It’s not that and it’s not just because you’re safe. I just- I know we were each other’s everything and we can’t just jump back into that, but I’d really like to take it one day at a time. With you,” Bucky finished softly.

Steve raised a gentle hand to Bucky’s cheek, unable to keep himself from touching at this point. He couldn’t help the way his chin trembled or the tears that welled up in his eyes as he looked at the man he’d loved and lost so many times. Steve needed the reassurance that Bucky was actually there, that he could reach out and touch him, feel his warmth and security while keeping him safe.

“You want this?” Steve confirmed.

“Steve, I swear, if you ask me that one more time, I might change my mind,” Bucky sassed.

“Alright alright, there you are,” Steve laughed.

They sat in silence for a moment longer. Bucky’s hand still squeezing Steve’s thigh with Steve’s hand pressed over his own. Steve’s opposite hand held Bucky’s cheek as he let his eyes wander over Bucky’s face. It was the same face that Steve came home to in high school, the same one he found staring up at him in Azanno, and the same one that haunted his dreams for the years after the war. He never imagined he’d see it again; not as the Winter Solider and not as the love of his life.

Eventually, Steve let go of Bucky and slumped back against the couch, spreading his arms for Bucky to settle into. Bucky quirked an eyebrow for a split-second before folding himself into Steve’s grip, his back pressed to Steve’s front. The strong arms that wrapped around him felt like coming home. Bucky never thought he could feel like that again, he didn’t know he had a home to come back to. But this, this was it.

“When did you know?” Steve whispered against his neck.

Bucky paused for a minute, trying to comb through the jagged memories and mismatched pictures in his head. At this point, he had enough of his own mind back that he could see so many of his own experiences but didn’t quite know where they fit into his life. It was hard to differentiate among all the years that swirled in his head.

“When was the bridge?” Bucky asked.

“You knew on the bridge?”

“Yeah. Well, no, not really. But after. I started getting these flashes of what I now realize are memories. The moment I fell was just on replay in my head, I just kept hearing you yell for me.”

Steve squeezed him tightly and buried his nose in Bucky’s long hair, willing himself to stay strong for Bucky.

“I told them I knew you, but, you know,” Bucky trailed off.

“I know, Buck. I’m so sorry.”

Bucky shifted in Steve’s arms, rolling over to face him. They were nose to nose, their breath immediately mingling between them.

“Not your fault, Stevie. We’re here now, yeah?”

“Yeah, we are. But we can always talk about that stuff, whenever you need to. That’s why we’re here, remember?”

“As long as you’re here with me to figure it all out, Steve. I know I can’t do it without you.”

As Steve nodded in agreement, his nose bumped against Bucky’s causing them both to gasp at how close they hadn’t realized they were. Steve’s gaze dropped to Bucky’s lips out of habit and Bucky’s tongue swiped over his plump bottom lip on impulse.

“Buck,” Steve breathed, unable to stop himself.

Bucky stared back at Steve for what should have been an awkward length of time, but neither man noticed. After a few long breaths, Bucky nodded, signaling for Steve to go ahead. One of Steve’s hands crept up from his waist to cradle his face, his thumb dragging along his cheekbone as Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut.

Steve barely had to move with how close they already were. He merely angled his face to the right and immediately felt Bucky’s warm breath directly against his lips. Before he could do anything, Bucky closed the final hint of space between them and captured Steve’s lips in a feather-light kiss. Steve couldn’t help the rush of emotion that filled his heart the moment he felt those all-too-familiar lips against his again. 

He let his lips lead him in rediscovering Bucky, pleased that the same flick of his tongue and caress of his neck brought out the softest whimpers, just like when they were in another life. When he felt tears fall from his eyes, he pulled back ever so slightly. 

“Wow,” Bucky murmured.

Steve sniffled quietly but knew he couldn’t hide his emotion from the man in his arms.

“Yeah, wow is right.”

“So, we’ll figure this out?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Just like we always have, baby.” 

Bucky couldn’t help the way he burrowed into Steve’s chest, and Steve couldn’t stop the smile on his face as he felt Bucky press a kiss to his chest. 

“Did you know you always used to do that before you fell asleep?” Steve whispered.

When he looked down, Bucky’s eyes were closed and his breathing was even, his face squished against Steve’s shirt. Steve shook his head fondly, and pulled Bucky even closer, silently vowing to never let him go again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, friends! Feel free to come say hi on [Tumblr](https://goindownshipping.tumblr.com/), my username is the same as here, goindownshipping.
> 
> See y'all soon!


End file.
